You'll Be Around...
by Disgruntled Peony
Summary: Bobby tells Claire how he feels... but he doesn't get the reaction he hoped for.


Title: You'll Be Around...  
Author: liz_Z  
E-mail: liz_Z@secret-agent.com  
Category: Angst  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: Separation Anxiety', The Three Phases of Claire', The New Stuff'.  
Season/Sequel info: Theoretically takes place in the middle of The New Stuff', but is not something I think really happened... it just seemed like the best place to stick this stupid little bunny that bit me on the butt.  
Disclaimer: I don't own em, I never have... of course, I really, REALLY wish I did, but I don't. *pouts*  
Author's notes: I was listening to a really sad song when this bunny hit me... It kind of plays on some of my secret fears, which obviously won't be so secret now. The genders are reversed here, but the basic principle is the same. Oh, and just in case you're wondering about the last two lines of the story, they're lyrics from the sad song that inspired the bunny. *sniffle* I think I'm gonna cry now... 

You're a good friend, Bobby.  
Those words hit me like a ton of bricks.   
You're a good friend.'  
I know what's coming next, I don't even have to listen.  
I just made the worst mistake of my life.

I told Claire how I felt about her.

I don't know why I told her.  
I guess it was because she wasn't working at the Agency anymore.  
It wouldn't be fishing off the company pier if she didn't work there anymore, right?  
At least, that was my reasoning at the time.  
Now I know that it wouldn't have mattered, even if I had told her while we worked in the same place.  
She thinks of me as a friend'.

I should never have gotten up the courage to tell her how I felt.  
The cowardly folks at least get to have dreams.  
Now, I don't have any hope of ever dreaming again.

After that thing with the Beta-C, I'd thought there was at least some chance she cared for me the way I cared about her.  
I'd thought there might be some chance she hadn't just been feeling momentary lust.  
Some chance that it wasn't just the drugs.  
Some chance, indeed.  
I've got about as much chance as an ice-cube in an oven.

She thinks of me as a friend.  
Some people might be able to cut their losses and just take that much.  
But not me, I'm an all or nothing kind of guy.  
And I just dug my own grave.

I should've known I wasn't the type of guy for her.  
She likes those smart types, the kind with lab coats and test tubes.  
I'm about as far from that as you can get.

I mean, I'm smart, but not the kind of smart she likes.  
I'm street smart.  
Not like I have a doctorate or anything.  
There's no way I could compare to Kevin Fawkes or any of the other guys she's dated over the years.  
I'm just plain old Bobby Hobbes, screw-up extraordinaire.

Uh oh, Claire's stopped talking now.  
Looks like she wants a response.  
So, I do the manly thing.  
I give her a watery smile, mutter something about having a meeting with the Official, and bolt out of there as fast as my feet will carry me.  
It sure wouldn't do for her to see me cry.

I make my way back to Golda in a daze.  
I climb into the driver's seat, but I can't bring myself to put the keys into the ignition.  
I'm kind of afraid I'll do something rash.  
Something like drive off a pier.  
But definitely not a company pier.  
Oh no, Bobby Hobbes doesn't have anything to do with those.

I press my forehead against the steering wheel and choke back a sob.  
I can't break down, not now.  
But everything's falling apart, everything.  
Fawkes is working for the feds, Claire's working for the DoD...  
And I finally have an answer to the question I've been waiting to ask for so long.  
The wrong answer, but still, it's better than nothing...

Oh, who am I kidding, of course it isn't better than nothing.  
It's a whole lot worse.  
It's I-could-put-a-gun-to-my-head-and-end-it-all-now worse.

I could, too.  
I could just blow my brains out here and now with this lovely little Colt .45.  
End it all.  
Bang, and it's over.  
But I won't.  
Because then, they'd win.  
Just who they' are, I'm not sure, but they'd win.  
And Bobby Hobbes may be a screw-up, but he is definitely not a loser.

So, I pull myself together.  
Stiff upper lip and all that.  
I just let a part of me die, all over again.  
It died after Vivian left, and it's dying again now.  
Maybe this time it's gone for good.  
I almost hope that it is.  
Then I'll never have to go through this again.

Now I can put the keys in the ignition.  
I won't be driving off any bridges.  
I'll be heading straight for the nearest bar.  
Do the manly thing and drown my sorrows in a bottle of whiskey.  
Better than drowning myself in a lake, I guess.

Well, see you later, Claire.  
You'll be around...  
And I'll be square.


End file.
